Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (22 page)

Mave
eventually wakes with a start and seems to have forgotten where he is at. He’s
shaking and is sweating, even though I turned the window air unit on full
blast. “It’s okay,” I murmur to soothe him. “You’re home.”

He looks
around cautiously for a few moments before pulling himself together. He scoots
up in the bed and wipes his hands over his weary face. “Sorry,” he says.

We do
another quiet spell as we watch each other. I’m scared I’m going to spook him.
I don’t know this Mave, but I think I know how to reach the old one.

I shake my
head at him discerningly. “I still think you have worms,” I say, causing a
slight smile to pull at his lips. I reach over and squeeze his barely there
waist. I pull my phone out and dial Jen. “Hey. I need you to head over to Momma
May’s and pick up a large bucket of fried chicken with all the fixings and a
gallon of tea.” As I say this Mave hold up two fingers. “Make that two gallons
of tea and a peach cobbler.” I’m about to hang up when Mave mouths,
ice cream
. Yep. I’ve reached my Mave.
“And can you stop by the store and grab a gallon of vanilla ice cream?”

“Sure,”
Jen says.

I put the
phone away and continue to sit with my dear friend. He’s like a brother to me,
even after all these years of separation. I hate that he is having to fight
such an ugly battle. I hate that he got mixed up with such. “I’ve been praying
for you,” I whisper. His eyes tear up, so he places his arm over them to hide.
I know he’s ashamed of himself.

“Mave, we
all make mistakes. Just promise me to not let this beat you,” I say through my
own tears. He has had to fight to survive all of his life and I just can’t
fathom this being the ending to his story.

“I’m
working on it. I’m clean. It just hurts a lot,” he says hoarsely.

I have no
clue as to what it feels like to come off drugs, but seeing him in this shape,
it’s definitely something I never want to experience. Mave seems to fold into
himself as he curls up in a ball on his side and sobs. I rub his back and
nearly cringe when my hand meets nothing but skin and bones. He is hurting and
I have no idea how to make it better. I promise myself that if he’s no better
by tomorrow, I will ask Dillon for help. He texted me back while Mave slept,
wanting to know what was going on. He said Mave went missing early yesterday
morning and they had been searching for him. I reassured him it was best to
stay put for the time being and that I would keep him posted. It wouldn’t
surprise me if the whole cavalry shows up by nightfall. I just hope the guys
hold off and give Mave some space.

“I’m sorry
I wasn’t there for you,” I say quietly. I’m so mad at myself.

“This is
on me. No one else,” he says, his voice muffled by his arm.

“I’m here
for you now, Mave. Whatever you need. Promise.” I sniffle. This is killing me.

“This is
what I need right now. Please let me stay,” he begs.

I pull his
arm down from his head so I can see his eyes. “We got this, okay?” He simple nods
in agreement.

A loud
creaking pop of the front door lets me know the food is here, so I scurry to
the front of the trailer and meet Jen.

“Let’s
eat,” she says as she unloads the bags onto the table.

“I need
you to leave. Sorry.” I look at her with remorse.

“Well, I’m
taking a chicken leg at least.” She grabs a piece of chicken along with a roll
and heads back out the door without giving me any more lip. I had texted her
back earlier too and told her an old friend of mine needed me. I didn’t tell
her it was Maverick King. She would have gone all fan freak on me. She’s a
pretty big fan of Bleu Streak.

As soon as
the door slams, I feel the trailer rock slightly with Mave walking towards the
small kitchen. I fill him a plate with three pieces of chicken and a pile of
mash potatoes and coleslaw as he takes a seat beside me. He digs into it likes
he’s not eat in ages. He looks like he hasn’t too. He scarfs down the chicken
and uncaps the jug of tea and drinks greedily straight from it. He sits it down
by his plate, so I guess he is in no need of a glass. By the time I’m done
nibbling on a chicken thigh, Mave has made his second plate and has chugged
half a gallon of tea. It blows my mind how him and Max have always been able to
eat such large quantities of food without getting sick. Really. Where do they
put it? These two could be competitive eaters, without a doubt.

I inhale
deeply as Mave peels the lid off the tin pan and the aroma of baked peaches
fills the space. He looks at the dessert lustfully and I nearly laugh at him.
He pops the ice cream carton open and sets out to dumping all of it on top of
the cobbler. He seems on a mission so I don’t fuss at him about it. I just grab
us two spoons and we dig into the rich dessert without a word. He makes fast
work of it. I barely get four good bites before the tin container is scraped
clean.

I look at
him with a smirk on my face. “Worms. You have worms.” I nod my head at my
certainty on the matter, making him laugh. That one thing melts my heart. It’s
a rich happy laugh and it gives me hope that Mave just might make it through
this.

He sits
back in his chair and pats his protruding belly with satisfaction. His red
rimmed eyes seem to grow quite heavy at the same time.

“Why don’t
you stretch out in Aunt Evie’s bed? There’s more room,” I suggest.

He sits,
thinking about it for a while. “If it’s okay, I would rather crash in your bed.
I don’t think Aunt Evie would be too happy with me right now.” He won’t meet my
eyes and I notice the shame seeping from him.

I place my
hand over his to get his attention and to comfort him. “Aunt Evie would be
proud that you are fighting to get better.”

He nods
his head and lets out a long sigh. He stands and heads back to my room, and I
hear the groaning of the small bed as he lies back down. By the time I clean
the table, I hear him snoring. I don’t want to leave Mave alone, so I ask Brina
to let Will spend the night with her, and then I climb into Aunt Evie’s bed.

I didn’t
sleep well. I was worried Mave would disappear in the night. I kept checking on
him, but the only time he moved all night was one trip to the bathroom and then
right back to bed. It’s already midmorning. I’ve drunk an entire pot of coffee
while waiting on him to awaken. It seems he has a lot of rest to catch up on. I
eye his bag of sausage biscuits I had Jen grab up for me. They are cold now,
but I’m sure he will eat them all the same.

Brina
stopped by so I could give Will some love before school. I’ve sent Dillon
another message and filled him in on the night and that Mave is in a sleep
coma. He sent back that it is probably exactly what Mave needs right now, and
he promised to give us a few days before sending someone to escort Mave back to
rehab. I have only a few days to help out the best I can. My sole duty is to feed
him constantly and to let him rest.

After
about another hour, Mave shuffles out looking rested, but boy does his head
need a combing in a bad way. He sits by me and without a word I hand him the
bag of biscuits and the quart of orange juice. After the five biscuits are gone
and the juice chugged, he rewards me with another smile, although it’s a weak
one.

“What
happened, Mave?” I ask, needing the answer.

He shrugs
his shoulders. “Curiosity nearly killed this cat,” he says. He looks at me
remorsefully and gives me a sad smile that doesn’t make it to his bloodshot
eyes. “I sure wish I could go back and stay on that dang path Preacher Floyd
introduced me to. That dude was so right.”

“It’s not
too late. You’re still here. God’s giving you a second chance,” I say to
reassure him.

“I know.
I’m not gonna squander it.” He shivers and looks lost in thought. “I’ve been
scared straight,” he murmurs.

“I need
you to get healthy.” Then I lay it on him. “You’re an uncle now and I need you
to be a good one.” I know he’s not blood kin, but he might as well be.

“What?” he
asks as he eyes my belly. “You don’t look pregnant.” His eyebrows are pinched
together in confusion and he scratches at the side of his head.

I laugh at
the hilarity of his statement. “Me and Dillon have a four-year-old son,” I say,
and his jaw nearly hits the floor. I have his full attention now.

“Does
Dillon know?”

“He just
found out and that’s why he’s not speaking to me at the moment.” I pause before
I finish my confession. I think it might do Mave good to focus on something
besides his own personal demons at the moment. “Me and Dillon got married that
night before y’all left for that first tour.”

“Holy
sh
…crap!” He stands up at this and looks
like he’s about to laugh. “You’re joking!”

“No. No
joke, Mave. That’s why I really need you to focus on getting better. We need
you. Will needs you.”

“Will?” he
asks.

“Yes. He
gave me the will I needed to get through these years without Dillon and Aunt
Evie. And I bet if you allow it, he can give you the will to get better too.”

He’s
laughing now, and although it’s not the best timing, it sounds like music to my
ears. “No wonder our man acted so weird all these years. You wouldn’t believe
the number of babes that have thrown themselves at him.
All
the time.”

I shake my
head. “I can just imagine.” I cross my arms and my blood starts to boil. Those
are images I could live a lifetime without.

Mave
laughs some more. “No. The dude wouldn’t even look at ‘em. We called him Saint
Bleu,” he says. “Me and Max figured you must have broke him of all females.
That man has loved you all his life.” He shakes his head. “It all makes sense
now.” Mave’s words cause my throat to thicken with emotion. “You both are
creeps for keeping it from us, though.”

Mave grabs
me up in a fierce hug and I hold him tight back until I get a good whiff of
him.

“Whew.
Okay, buddy. Let’s head over to my cabin. Dillon left some clothes and I think
we can make do with them. You gotta wash your hide.” I release him and Mave
follows me out to the golf cart. The sun seems to hurt his eyes so he shields
them the entire ride. He really looks rough and it’s got me seriously worried.

We pull up
at my new place and I see the confusion in his features. I quickly reassure him
the treasure trove still exists, and as we push through the front he eyes all
of the toys scattered around.

“This is
gonna be fun. I can’t wait to meet the little dude.” He smiles over at me.

I get him
set up in Will’s bathroom and head to the kitchen to figure out if I have
enough food to keep him fed. I seriously have my doubts. I hate to bother Jen,
but she is going to have to do a grocery run for me. I’m making the list out
when there’s a knock at the door. I hurry through the house to open it and find
Tate standing there, with an overnight bag, and wearing his usual warm smile.

“What are
you doing here?” I’m worried Dillon has sent him to collect Mave already.

“Dillon
says I’m to help you in any way needed,” he says. This is a relief to me so I
move out of the doorway and welcome him in.

“Perfect.
I need you to grab groceries first thing.” Thank goodness for personal
assistances, even if mine is only on loan.

“Sure
thing.” Tate looks around, placing his bag by the couch. “How is he?”

“Showering
at the moment. You might want to pick him up some clothes too.” I pause, trying
not to get emotional because Tate is still waiting for me to answer. “He’s in
bad shape, but please don’t worry Dillon about it right now. I just feel like I
need some time with Mave. If he doesn’t seem any better by tomorrow, I promise
I will call Dillon myself.”

“Okay,”
Tate says.

So I
finish writing out the shopping list and he heads back out for the groceries. I
know Tate gets paid to do this, but the dude is just so pleasantly accommodating.

Mave
reemerges later on, looking a bit more human with his long, wet hair tangle
free and clean. Dillon’s clothes are way too big with the shirt nearly hanging
off Mave’s bony shoulder, but they are going to have to work for the time
being. The bottoms of the pants are dragging past his bare feet, but Mave seems
not to mind. I notice he has to keep hitching the pants back onto his bony
hips. I would offer him one of my belts, but I don’t think he would accept it.
He places a kiss on my cheek, as he passes me. I know that’s his way of saying
thank you
. A few memories of Mave doing
that very gesture to Aunt Evie flicker through my mind. I choke the emotions of
it back down and follow after him. I seem to hardly be able to hold it together
these last two days.

He
shuffles into the kitchen without a word and grabs two family-sized bags of
chips off the counter and a container of dip out of my fridge, along with the
other gallon of tea I brought over from the trailer, and sets up shop in the
hammock on my back deck. After the chip bags are empty and the tea drained, he
is out like a light again. He seems so exhausted.

As we
watched him sleep, Tate explained to me Mave had went through a pretty rough
spell of insomnia. So all of this sleeping is making perfect sense. I asked
Tate a few other questions that Dillon seemed to rather not answer. The main
one I wanted answer was, “Did Mave overdose?”

He nodded
his head grimly. “Pretty much. Talk about a wakeup call. Dillon found him
backstage after the London concert and thought he was dead.” I gasped at this
admittance. “He was close too. I saw something in Dillon break that night.”

I don’t
ask any more questions after this. I don’t think I can stomach to know anything
else. I leave Tate to watch over him as I busied myself with fixing Maverick a
home-cooked meal.